


Before

by OctarineSparks



Series: Bowties and Stethescopes [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Fezturion, Inspired by Song Quotes, Jealousy, M/M, Rating May Change, Unrequited Love, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctarineSparks/pseuds/OctarineSparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots inspired by song quotes that focus on the Fezturion pairing, more specifically the Doctor falling for Rory. Honestly I am going somewhere with this. Ignores season 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stray Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So the day I shipped Eleven/Rory was the day I realised what a tiny ship I was on. It's more of a raft really. With a hole in it. In the middle of a storm. But that won't stop me. I'm incorrigible.

**Stray Heart**

 

_Everything that I want, I want from you._  
 _But I just can't have you._  
 _Everything that I need, I need from you,_  
 _But I just can't have you._

 

He stands at the edge of the dance floor, his feet tapping in time to the music. It fills him with an excitable energy, and he wants to dance. With anybody, with everybody.

With Rory.

Perhaps later, he tells himself. He's sure he can convince the nurse to dance with him. For a lark, a joke, to make Amy laugh. They'll dance, as the evening goes on, and he'll pretend that he's holding Rory close because it's just _funnier_ that way, and he's closing his eyes because if he has to look at Rory's face he'll crack up and spoil everything. He's not closing his eyes the better to commit Rory's touch to memory, definitely not. He's not relishing every second he is close enough to see the rise and fall of Rory's chest because for so long it seemed like he was gone forever, and now that he is back the Doctor can hardly believe his eyes. The thud thud thud of Rory's heart, no longer locked away in a plastic chest, is music to his ears, and that is why he is tapping his feet.

He watches, with broken hearts, as Rory dances with his brand new bride. They are so close he can't see a sliver of light between them, eyes half closed and faces nuzzled into each other's necks. He wants to leave, but for God's sake Amy remembered him back into existence. He has to stay, and he has to be happy for them. Rory didn't remember him, while the Doctor could never forget the man. Even when the universe itself had tried to force him.

The night wears on, and there are scuff marks on the Doctor's boots from where he has been dancing with Amy's six year old cousin, but now he is sitting down, catching his breath, drowning his sorrows, whatever. He looks around, for nothing at all but really for one person in particular, and spots Rory dancing with Amy, exuberantly, happily, but Amy has a pinched look about her. He all but leaps from his seat, like a coiled spring finally allowed to break free, and he's crossed the space between them so quickly it was as though he had always been there.

"May I?" he asks, and for a moment Rory thinks he is talking to him but then turns to see Amy laugh and nod gratefully as she collapses into a chair. The Doctor spins on his heels and turns to Rory, his face split in an inane grin as he grabs the man by the hands and pulls him a little further into the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" Rory asks, but he doesn't let go and nor does he try to get away. The Doctor merely laughs in reply, jerking his head towards Amy, who is already verging on hysteria. Rory follows his eye line and sees his beautiful new bride, illuminated by her amusement at their antics, and bravely spins the Doctor in a wide circle, grabbing his hand tightly at the end of the turn and pulling him close to his chest.

"Let's give her a show, eh?" the Doctor says, sounding braver than he feels as he dips Rory. But Rory is not a delicate flower. He's almost as tall as the Doctor and just as equally built, and they both tumble to the floor, Rory landing so hard that all the breath is forced from his lungs. The Doctor lands awkwardly on top of him, aware that the elbow in Rory's stomach must have hurt, that every other inch of them seems to be perfectly in line. His leg tucked in between Rory's own, his hand still resting on Rory's shoulder, their faces inches apart.

"Smooth moves," Rory wheezes with a grin, seemingly unfazed by their closeness. The Doctor can feel the contours of Rory's muscles even through the material of his suit, and he scrambles up quickly before he embarrasses himself.

"Sorry dear," he covers quickly, holding his hand out to Rory. The man takes it with a put upon grin while behind them, Amy is bent double with laughter. The Doctor grins, and takes Rory in his arms once more, one final move before the song ends. He knows that everyone is watching them, that there is nothing he can or should do with the newly married man before him, except perform. So he takes Rory's hand and slips it around his own waist, placing his hand on Rory's shoulder and taking on the traditional female part of the dance. He lets Rory lead for the last few bars, and he follows, watching his footwork, watching the rise and fall of Rory's still no longer plastic chest. He follows, knowing that this a man he would follow anywhere.

Towards the end, as the music starts to fade, Amy cuts in with a gentlemanly bow and this time it is Rory who is relegated to the side lines as the Doctor dances with the bride.

"What's the matter?" she asks, as they dance methodically, with none of the joy of the dance the Doctor had shared with Rory.

He shrugs, and smiles, and pulls Amy into a tight hug.

"Nothing. Thank you. Thank you for bringing me back."

"Well, I couldn't let you miss my wedding, Raggedy Man," Amy replies with a small laugh.

 _If only_ , the Doctor thinks, and he dances with the bride while the groom looks on, his hearts in pieces and his footwork flawless.


	2. Question

**Question**

 

_Someday, somebody's gonna ask you,_   
_A question that you should say yes to,_   
_Once in your life._   
_Baby, tonight,_   
_I've got a question for you._

 

The idea nagged at the Doctor terribly. It would be nothing but the worst kind of self-torture, but he just had to know. It had been bothering him since the wedding, since he had stood back and ached while Rory spun around on the dance floor with his beautiful new bride.

He had thought about it almost constantly since then. It was part of the reason while he had offered to take the pair on their Honeymoon. Just to have a few more minutes, a little more time.

Weddings are tricky affairs, and while he hadn't been around for a second of planning and hard work, he knew that Amy had probably run herself ragged organising everything, but that wasn't the part the Doctor was interested in. He was interested in the thing that had sparked it all. The proposal.

-:-

Amy had excused herself to have a long bath. It was the morning after the wedding, and the newlyweds looked exhausted, happy and distinctly untidy. The Doctor felt his stomach coil with jealousy and a dirty sort of shame as Rory walked towards him yawning, his hair sticking up in every direction and his t-shirt raised slightly as he ran a hand over his stomach. "Morning," he said, scratching his head and seeming not to care about the state he was in.

"Morning," the Doctor replied, turning his attention back to the TARDIS console. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Cruise ship?" he asked Rory.

"What?" Rory replied, stretching his arms out.

"Honeymoon," the Doctor replied simply.

Rory raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Oh, that sounds quite good actually."

"Well there's no need to sound so surprised, Mr. Pond," the Doctor said grumpily.

"It's not-" Rory began, but then he caught the Doctor's grin and gave up. "Never mind. I suppose it is a little bit more now. Now that we've made it official." He held up his left hand, where the plain silver band was illuminated slightly by the lights of the TARDIS.

"Congratulations again," the Doctor replied, straightening up and pointing at the ring. His smile was wide, too wide to be genuine, but Rory had no reason to suspect otherwise. The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and scanned a portion of the console, just for something to do. He closed his eyes briefly, his brain rebelling against him, forcing his thoughts to impossible things. Rory was married to Amy. Amy was married to Rory. No one was married to the Doctor and that was exactly as it should be.

And yet the question was out before he could stop himself. "So, how did you do it then?" he asked, putting his screwdriver away again and leaning against the console, his arms folded across his chest. Rory stepped slightly closer to the Doctor, looking down at the controls with that strange habit of his that the Doctor had recently picked up on. Now and again, Rory would look down at the various knobs and dials as though trying to work out what they did. The Doctor smiled gently at his strange little quirk.

"Do what?" Rory asked, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor.

"You know," the Doctor said amicably, punching Rory playfully on the arm. "Propose! I bet that was a scary conversation."

Rory laughed. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, running a hand over the back of his neck. He copied the Doctor's pose, standing next to the Doctor and leaning his head in ever so slightly when he spoke again. "It was all a bit stupid, really," Rory confessed, and the Doctor beamed because of course it had been. Rory wouldn't have been able to do it any other way.

"What happened?" he asked. "I had the ring in my pocket, and I had everything all planned out," Rory began, his voice wistful. "But then I got to her house, she asked if she could use my phone and well, when I pulled it out of my pocket the ring box fell out too. I didn't really have much choice after that but to ask her there and then on her doorstep." Rory laughed, and the Doctor joined in, but his mind was letting those impossible thoughts creep back, and just for a ridiculous moment, he was gone.

_The Doctor looks up as Rory enters the console room, nervousness etched on every part of his face. The Doctor wonders what is bothering him, and is momentarily frightened that it's bad news. Rory is leaving him. Rory is going home. That must be it, actually, because Rory is already wearing his coat._

_Rory clears his throat, approaching the Doctor slowly. "Um, Doctor, can you take us home?" he asks._

_The Doctor's hearts fall, but he can't be expected to know that Rory just wants to do the deed on his own terms, somewhere familiar, somewhere where he knows how to find the extraordinary in the dull._

_"Really?" the Doctor asks, trying to stall. "Because there are all sorts of places we haven't been to yet," he gabbles hastily._

_Rory steps forward, putting his hand on the Doctor's arm to still his ramblings. "Please?" he implores._

_The Doctor relents. "Yes, ok," he says, starting to programme in the co-ordinates. The plotter, however, chooses that moment to stick, and the Doctor wonders if it is the TARDIS trying to help him out. He smiles, but then frowns. He can't stop Rory from going home if he wants to. "Could you pass me that hammer?" he asks Rory softly._

_Rory nods and leans down to retrieve the hammer, but as straightens back up there is a soft thump. Before Rory can react, the Doctor looks down and his hearts leap as he sees the red velvet box lying between them. He tears his eyes from it after what seems like an age, and looks up to Rory to see the man flushed, but smiling._

_"Oh, that's spoilt it," Rory says, but his smile doesn't falter._

The Doctor shook his head. Fantasies, stupid, fluffy, romantic fantasies were a sharp contrast to the darkness he felt inside and he was sick of having them. Every second he spent in Rory's presence was a needle in his heart, and as Rory and Amy grew closer the needles stuck further and further in. He had the weight of the universe on his shoulders, and therefore had no business fantasising about a stupid crush like some moping teenager. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and concentrated on what he was doing.

"So what did you have planned then?" he asked Rory, as he finally managed to programme in the right co-ordinates to whisk the Ponds off to their Honeymoon. The TARDIS rocked slightly and Rory was shaken from his pose beside the console.

"Oh, the works, you know," he said, waving a hand around expansively. "Picnic on the hill at sunset, all her favourite food, some champagne."

The Doctor shook his head. "Oh, Roranicus," he said, his voice heavy. "Please tell me you weren't going to put the ring in her glass?"

Rory hesitated for just a moment. "No," he said, looking at the floor.

The Doctor laughed, suddenly and rather hugely. “Your way was much better,” he said, pulling Rory into a tight hug, simply because to not do so at that moment seemed impossible. The musky scent and warmth of the man almost shut his brain down completely.

“You think so?”

The Doctor released Rory quickly, thinking that for the sake of his own sanity he would have to cut down on the stolen hugs.

“Nearly perfect,” the Doctor said, turning away


	3. Jolene

**Jolene**

_Your beauty is beyond compare,_   
_With flaming locks of auburn hair,_   
_With ivory skin,_   
_And eyes of emerald green._   
_Your smile is like a breath of Spring,_   
_Your voice is soft like Summer rain,_   
_And I cannot compete with you,_   
_Jolene._

Sometimes the Doctor catches himself staring at Amy for perhaps a second longer than he should. He can't help it though, because her beauty really is captivating. She radiates with a soft luminescence, one that makes you stop and think, ' _my God'_. No should be allowed to be that pretty, with eyes that sparkling and hair that luscious and legs that long. It simply isn't fair.

It's no wonder Rory wants her.

And then there's the other side of the coin, but she passes almost every test there, too. She's funny, and she's kind, and she strong but not terrifyingly so, all the things that make a woman perfect.

So it's no wonder Rory loves her.

But in one thing, just one, small, tiny thing, she fails. She fails because she had to choose, when really there should have been no contest.

Because Amy is beautiful, and Amy is wonderful, but she is blind, too. To be so oblvious to the fact that Rory's love for her was the most unique, glorious, powerful thing in the entire universe that she _actually_ thought about giving it up, well, it almost makes the Doctor want to shake her.

It's the kind of love that everyone wants, even her, but for one fleeting, stupid moment, she didn't want it from him.

Because Rory doesn't _just_ love Amy; he seems incapable of loving anybody else. He's devoted to an almost twisted degree, to a point where the Doctor thinks that Amy could do anything she wanted and Rory would always come running back to her. And that hurts perhaps most of all.

If that love was his, he would never do a thing to risk it. He's seen love before, even been in it himself a few times, but he's never experienced one as complete as the one Amy gets to experience every day. And he wants it. He wants that one track love to be focused on him, and that's selfish.

Because Amy loves Rory too.

Even if, just for a moment, she had to choose.


	4. Crazy He Calls Me

**Crazy He Calls Me**

_I say I’ll move the mountains,_  
 _And I’ll move the mountains,_  
 _If he wants them out of the way._  
 _Crazy, he calls me,_  
 _Sure I’m crazy,_  
 _Crazy in love, I’d say._

 

The age that pressed upon him was constant. The years, the centuries, they eroded him from the inside out, rotting away at all that he was and leaving darkness behind. So easy would it be to succumb to that darkness, to let it consume him and turn the tables on the universe. To show it what he was really capable of. But _they_ stopped him. They always did.

The TARDIS was like a revolving door that lead straight to his hearts. People came and went, and some he cared for more than others: Some he didn't care for at all. But the truth, the shameless, self-indulgent truth, was that he _wanted_ them all. Never in a romantic way, or at least hardly ever, but in a way borne of his own vanity. He wanted to impress them; he wanted them to be impressed by _him_.

It was an advantage then, to have all those years and all that knowledge behind him. He could show them things that they would never, could never, forget. Sights that would make them weep with unworthiness, broken inside that such a wretch as themselves should ever live to see such a thing.

Or he could let them feel things. New sensations and pleasures and joys that would fill them for the rest of their days. He could show them the smallest star, tiny enough to be held in their hands and heartbreaking in all its shimmering beauty, and he could take them to the edge of the galaxy and make them look and look until they saw just how small they really were.

He could provide a thrill for every inch of them. Fruit so sweet and good that they'd swear they'd never eat anything else again. Cocktails that went straight to their heads, making them laugh and dance and sing and love and never want to come down. He could take them to a world where the mist in the air set their skin alight with pleasure until they couldn't take it anymore, and when the release came, however they finally managed it, it would thrum through them for days. And then he could take him to a world where sleep was the main attraction, where they would have dreams so real and so vivid that they would return from their beds with their faces painted in shame.

And he would do it all, whatever they wanted, whatever they asked, to see that look on their faces. That look that said that he was the one they would follow into anything, that the bad days were worth it all, and so that inevitably they would say that terrible word.

 _Forever_.

Forever was all he wanted from them all, and forever was what he could never have. He destroyed them all, in the end, but he always made himself remember that look. Made himself remember all the wonderful days he had given them to try and make the guilt just a little less. It worked, only barely, and that was why, when they asked to go here or then, or do this or that, he always said _yes_.

Because he loved them, and he wanted to do these things for them. To show them everything he knew was that was fantastic about the universe, and watch them see it through brand new eyes. He wasn't good with words, sometimes, and the things he had to do were the opposite of what he wanted, but if he took them to a tropical planet with white sand beaches and turquoise waters, they knew it was his way of saying, 'I care.'

So if Amy asked him one day if they could go shopping, he said yes, and off they would go, and Amy would know that he cared. And if another day Amy wanted to and see the crystal birds of Galis Seven, he would take her and she would laugh at the shimmering creatures and pout playfully when she was told that she couldn't take one home and Amy would know that she mattered. And when he took her to eighteenth century Vienna to see Mozart perfom, Amy knew he was saying 'Thank you.'

But the one man he would do anything for, never asked.

So the Doctor never got to tell him 'I care' while they stood shoulder to shoulder at Woodstock, which the Doctor was sure Rory would have enjoyed. He never got to say 'you matter' as they watched the twin moons rise on Indigo Prime, which was a sight the Doctor had been saving for someone he never knew existed before. Never got to say 'I love you' as he left Rory and Amy behind in Leadworth while he tried to stitch his soul back together.

Rory, it seemed, was fascinated by whatever the Doctor chose to show him, but the Doctor could never attain that sense of satifaction from giving him what he really wanted. Because Rory Williams, funny, kind, gorgeous Rory Williams, never asked him for a single damn thing.

 


	5. Wicked Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out the chapters will be linked together more fluidly than the first four, with some romantic development from Rory's side! Hurrah! But not a lot... a bit. Enough. Ish.

 

**Wicked Game**

_What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.  
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you_.

 

It had been two months since the wedding. Two months, and the Doctor was starting to feel almost normal again. These feelings he was having, for Rory and towards Amy, desire and jealousy chief among them, were settling now. Soon, like everything else in the Doctor's life, they would be gone. He was certain. He was sure.

And then, there was a row.

Amy and Rory had always been a bickering pair. They had been since the moment they had gotten together, and it was just their way. Because Rory knew that Amy was passionate, and Amy knew that Rory would love her no matter what happened between them, so the bickering was never serious. But some times, it wasn't sweet and playful. Sometimes it was stupid and angry, and made them want to be apart.

No one could remember how it started, though the Doctor had a feeling it was Amy chastising Rory for his over-cautiousness again, making her feel stifled and spoiling her adventure. And Rory was angry because she never took anything seriously, and he had _died_ , in case she had forgotten, and that was the moment he knew he had gone too far.

Amy hadn't said anything else, but instead stormed from the console room, her head held high and her back to the both of them.

The Doctor, who had been all but forgotten in the brief but explosive exchange, cleared his throat nervously. The sudden sound echoed through the electric silence, and he hoped that Rory would excuse himself too. But he didn't. He just looked at the Doctor, a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"Do you think that was a bit-?"

The Doctor nodded. "Maybe a bit."

Because the truth was, Amy had forgotten, and to remind her of something that was essentially not her fault was a harsh blow. She had forgotten Rory, and, despite the Doctor's desperate attempts, she had not remembered him. Not like she had remembered the Doctor, and both men tried their hardest not think about what that might mean. But Rory couldn't know either just how torn apart Amy had been, if only for a few minutes. Didn't know how hard the numbness had hit the Doctor, how much his hearts had broken. In a way, the Doctor mused, that was when he had known the truth of his affections for the man, but it hadn't mattered then. Rory was dead, and he had been swallowed by that relentless crack in time, and the Doctor had enough heartache in his life without trying to wrap his head around being in love with the dead, nonexistent man who had been engaged to his friend.

Rory flung himself down heavily into a chair. "It's not supposed to be like this, is it?" he asked the Doctor miserably.

"Like what?" the Doctor asked, sitting down next to Rory, a concerned expression on his face.

"Marriage," Rory said simply. "It's hard work sometimes."

The Doctor nodded, and told his traitorous brain to stop its awful, awful thoughts. "These things happen," the Doctor said, waving his hand around. "But you and Amy are, well, you and Amy. The Ponds! Nothing can come between that!"

He expected Rory to smile and agree, but he didn't. He didn't even look up.

"You almost did," he said quietly.

The Doctor lowered his head and risked putting his arm around Rory's shoulders. For his part, Rory didn't shrug him off, so the Doctor took it as a good sign. "That was nerves," he insisted. "That's all. She chose you."

Rory looked up, and he seemed to be struggling with something in his head.

"Was it really, you know, a choice?" Rory asked, with a small, embarrassed shrug.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor replied, genuinely confused.

"You know, between you and me? I mean, what if she _had_ chosen you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "There was really no contest, Rory," he said, prodding the other man gently in the chest.

"Humour me," Rory replied earnestly, and though they were both being friendly and amicable, the question was clear.

_Are you interested in my wife?_

The Doctor withdrew his arm from Rory's shoulders and leaned back in the chair. "Rory, I owe Amy a lot," he began heavily. "She waited for me for so long, spent her life wondering if she was crazy because of what I did to her. I would never, ever, turn her away from the TARDIS. But she's just Amy, to me. Crazy, scary, wonderful Amy." He smiled, and turned to face Rory. "Just like you are lovely, gorgeous, wonderful Rory."

Rory laughed. "Yeah, alright," he said. "Sorry. It's just... you know. Hard to compete."

"You're not competing, Rory. You know that."

Rory nodded. "Maybe I should go and find her," he said, and as he stood up he placed his hand on the Doctor's knee, sending an electric shock through him that seemed to finish up in his very soul. It was amazing how quickly everything was awakened inside him. Not gone, only sleeping. He shut his eyes guiltily, not wanting to forget.

"Just, one thing," Rory said, looking down at the Doctor. "Why did you remember me? I know you said time traveller, wibbly wobbly and a load of other things that sounded like nonsense, but Amy's a time traveller too."

The Doctor didn't want to say what he thought.

"She's not been travelling as long as me," was what he said, instead of, ' _Maybe she doesn't love you as much as I do_.' Which was a terrifying thought, because he knew Amy loved Rory _so much._

"Besides, she remembered you eventually," the Doctor pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, she did," Rory said with a smile.

"Remembered how much she loved you, so go and remind her again!" the Doctor said insistently, shooing Rory towards the door before he said something he shouldn't, not really realising that he had, in fact, just said it.

Rory nodded, and seemingly apropros of nothing leaned forward and gave the Doctor a small hug. "You give her what I can't," he muttered into the Doctor's ear. "And I know you're a good man for letting me come along too."

They broke apart quickly, the Doctor's hearts thudding in his chest, and he wondered if Rory could hear them, so ferocious were their beats.

"Wouldn't be the same without you now, Rory Williams," the Doctor said beaming.

"Not Pond?" Rory asked teasingly.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Not always," he said lightly. "You are not just here as Amy's accesory, you know."

Rory nodded. "And I'm not just here because of her," he said, fixing the Doctor's eyes with his own, before disappearing from the console room.

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair. It had been so much easier to deal with everything when those things _had_ been true. Rory was just Amy's clingy boyfriend/fiancee/husband, and Rory was only there for Amy. Now Rory was a brand new man, as though since he had come back from the dead, as it were, he was so much more. He'd spent 2,000 years waiting for Amy, and the Doctor could see those memories creeping into his eyes, and the thought made him tremble. For so long, everything about Rory's life had been Amy, and then he had experienced two hundred lifetimes without her.

And survived.

The Doctor could feel his skin still tingling from Rory's touch. Was he starting to be obvious? What would happen if Rory ever knew?

The Doctor spent a tormenting while alone while Rory and Amy made up, with only Rory's beautiful words and electrifying touch for company.


	6. Follow Me - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, turns out I'm a little bit changeable, and the next few chapters will be one story.

**Follow Me - Part 1**

_I'm not worried 'bout the ring you wear,_  
 _'Cause as long as nobody knows, the nobody can care,_  
 _You're feeling guilty, and I'm well aware,_  
 _But you don't look ashamed and baby, I'm not scared._

 

"Amy, now!" the Doctor shouted urgently. Amy turned to face him, looking down at his outstretched hand but making no attempt to take it. Behind her there was an enormous crash, and orange flames streaked towards the sky.

"Doctor, wait!" she said, having to shout due to the cacophony that was going on all around them. The ground shook with the force of the surrounding explosions, and the Doctor felt his hearts pounding ferociously in his chest as he watched Amy stubbornly refusing to move.

"No!" the Doctor shouted angrily, taking a small step towards the redhead. "We are getting out of here. Now." His breath was heavy in his lungs, a combination of smoke and rage making it hard for him to breathe. His hands were curled into fists, and he could feel every inch of himself trembling.

"Doctor, I am not going to leave them here, it's not-" Amy began, returning the Doctor's anger with more than enough of her own. Her eyes were hard, her muscles tense, and the Doctor felt momentarily afraid to deny her. However, he was in charge. His TARDIS, his rules.

"It's not our fight!" he finished for her, closing the space between them and grabbing her protesting hand. "It never was," he said, his voice calmer and more even as he fixed her eyes with his own and saw them soften, just ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, but we have to go now!"

He ran, and Amy reluctantly followed. He could almost feel her trying to get away, back to the middle of the fight, and back to the refugees. There was yet another ear-splitting noise, a twisting shriek of metal and glass, and both Amy and the Doctor fell to the ground. "It's not right," Amy said bitterly, taking advantage of the momentarily reprieve from their escape.

"It never is," the Doctor said, a hard edge to his voice as he pulled her to her feet. "Now come on, we need to get back to the TARDIS. Rory's waiting."

Amy nodded, sniffing and wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she allowed the Doctor to lead her back to the familiar blue box. He felt terrible, cold and distant in a way that was becoming all too familiar these days. Bad things happened; he couldn't expect to be able to stop them all.

But that didn't mean he couldn't expect other people not to care, either.

They slammed into the doors of the TARDIS, falling through them in their haste. Concern for the refugees was all well and good, but a bullet had grazed through Amy's hair and now they both had getting to safety paramount in their minds. "Rory!" the both shouted with equal urgency as they thundered into the control room, panting and exhausted as the doors shut behind them.

There was no answer.

"Doctor?" Amy said, turning to him, her eyes wide and fearful. "Doctor, where is he?"

The Doctor didn't answer. He wasn't sure he could as he ran around the console, a heavy feeling in his hearts. Rory was supposed to be here, he should have been back long before them. And yet, he was nowhere to be seen, and as the Doctor stared at the monitor, a quick scan told him that the other man wasn't anywhere on board.

"Stay here!" he snapped at Amy, pointing to one of the chairs.

"No, I-"

"Please!" the Doctor begged, tears pricking his eyes as he dashed to the doors. "Please."

Amy nodded, her voice silenced by the look in the Doctor's eyes and the weight in his voice.

"Bring him back," she finally managed in a small voice.

"Always," the Doctor replied.

-:-

Rory was running, so fast his legs were screaming in agony and every breath he took burned in his chest. He had to get back to the TARDIS, right now or sooner, back to Amy, and back to the Doctor. They had gotten separated back at the camp, where the refugees had found themselves in the middle of a battleground. It was supposed to be a safezone for the Skent, but somewhere the message had clearly gotten lost and before anyone knew what was going on, gunfire and explosions had rent the air, and all around him, Rory had watched innocent people die.

He, Amy and the Doctor had hesitated, torn between helping those who had been injured and getting out of the way of the gunfire. The devestation was so complete, there really didn't seem to be anything they could do. So they had run, the Doctor muttering angrily under his breath the whole time, groping for both their hands to make sure that they were with him. They had been running through the ramshackle camp, in between shoddy tents and poorly made shacks, as all around them screams filled the air.

And then suddenly, the Doctor had stopped.

"I need to go back," the Doctor said, looking behind them at the destruction.

"No," Rory had said, surprising even himself with his insistance while beside him, Amy nodded at the Doctor, agreeing with the idea that he had to do something. She turned to her husband, disbelief on her face.

"Rory! We can't just leave them!" she said angrily, but Rory knew the anger wasn't really for him.

"No, I know, but..." Rory took a deep breath, feeling like a monster. "He can't go back in there." He turned to the Doctor. "You can't. You'll get yourself killed."

Rory's face was a picture of concern, and the Doctor was inches away from giving up on the whole endeavour and doing anything Rory wanted. But the screams of the Skent managed to pierce his thoughts, and he looked at Rory pleadingly. "Get her back to the TARDIS," he implored.

Rory took a step closer to the Doctor and closed his fingers around his wrist. "Doctor, please," he said in a low voice.

But the Doctor merely shook his head, and pulled his arm away.

"Let me come with you," Amy said suddenly, and this too was met with immediate argument from both men.

"Absolutely not," the Doctor said, mirroring Rory's movements as he stepped closer to Amy. Rory made to follow, but he was suddenly, painfully brought to the ground by a young, injured alien running headlong into him. The Skent who had hit him was moaning pitifully, and the Doctor looked from him to Rory. "Get him to the TARDIS," he said, knowing that there was no way that the nurse would leave him behind.

"What about you and Amy?" Rory demanded as he got to his feet.

"Right behind you," the Doctor replied.

"Doctor..." Rory said, sagging slightly.

"Promise! Just go!" he said, and he turned to Amy.

It was clear that Rory didn't want to leave either of them, but the truth was that Rory was in just as much danger from trying to get his patient back to the TARDIS as the Doctor and Amy were from heading back into the warzone. However, they parted company under duress, knowing that life in the TARDIS was a risk they chose to take every day, and the idea of not doing anything they could to help these poor people was unthinkable.

"If the central zone has been hit, there's nothing we can do," Rory heard the Doctor say as he and Amy fled. He picked up the alien and wrapped one of his long arms over his own, thin shoulders.

They hadn't made it very far.

The alien man had died, on the ground, alone and afraid, with only a terrified human for company. Rory hoped he had at least been of some comfort.

And then he had run, as fast as he could, because it seemed to him as though the explosions were getting closer and he could hear a voice in his head like screaming, getting louder and louder and then...

-:-

The second the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS once more, the grating, rasping sound began. The Doctor didn't even turn to watch as the TARDIS vanished, taking Amy home where at least she would be safe. The war was out of control, and Rory was missing. He didn't need Amy's safety in his head too, worrying that she would follow him to find her husband.

"Rory!" he shouted, taking a few steps forward. He could barely hear his own shouting over the chaos. His eyes scanned the horizon desperately, but he couldn't see the other man anywhere. He pulled out his screwdriver, narrowing his eyes as he tried to gauge the readings.

There was a faint reading of a human lifeform, weak, and the Doctor followed it desperately.

Rory was lying on the ground, his eyes closed and completely still. The Doctor's hearts seemed to stop for just a moment as he noted the blood that coated Rory's arms, but then he noticed the colour. Slightly darker than human blood, almost a rusty brown. Alien then. The Doctor's chest hitched slightly. Rory's patient, the injured Skent. He must have been unable to save him.

He collpased painfully to his knees at the side of Rory's head, running the faint green light of his screwdriver over his face and neck. He shook his head, not believing what he was being told, even though he knew it to be true.

He flinched and covered Rory's prone body with his own as another explosion went off nearby, coating them both in dust and rubble. Rory didn't even flinch, and the Doctor knew that he had to wake him up.

For once, the universe seemed to be on the Doctor's side, and the low, rasping noise of the TARDIS returning reached his ears. Using the reinforcement of her psychic link coupled with his own, he pressed his fingers to Rory's temples and closed his eyes.

Rory's eyes flew open, and he screamed.

The Doctor wanted to say something soothing, but he could hear the marching footsteps of an oncoming assault and he knew there was no time. "Up, Rory, come on! Quickly, please!"

Something in the Doctor's voice seemed to hit Rory, pulling him from whatever private hell he was in just for the moment. He struggled to his feet with the Doctor's assistance, and allowed himself to be pushed through the familiar blue doors, where he then fell to the floor in a heap.

"Oh, Rory," the Doctor said, his eyes brimming with tears as he looked over the stricken man. "Rory, Rory, Rory, I am so sorry, I didn't think..." He laid his hands against the sides of Rory's face. The other man was looking up at him, but it was as if he couldn't even see the Time Lord. He was shaking, and the Doctor bit his lip and got to his feet, knowing what he had to do.

"No!" he heard Rory shout behind him. "Please, don't leave me! I'm scared!"

The Doctor squared his shoulders and ran, needing simply water and a cloth, feeling a horrifying shame in his stomach. He stepped out of the console room and into the TARDIS's kitchen, which he knew was closer than usual. Grabbing the supplies he needed, he laid a hand on the TARDIS walls in gratitude and raced back to the sound of Rory's screams.

"Help me!" Rory was shouting. He was straining against the floor, twisting and writhing but seemingly unable to get up.

"I'm here," the Doctor said urgently, desperately beginnging to wipe the blood from Rory's hands and arms. Once that was done, he struggled to pull Rory into a sitting position so he could remove his shirt and clean the blood off of him that had seeped beneath the sleeves. He scrubbed until Rory's skin turned red, but gradually, Rory's feverish shouts became quieter and quieter until he was still. Soon he was just sleeping, while the Doctor knelt beside him on the floor of the TARDIS, his head bowed.

-:-

Rory woke up some time later, in a strange bed. The walls were a deep red, warm and cosy, and the bed itself was large and soft and smelled of spices and coconut. His mouth was dry and when he tried to talk, his throat stuck to itself.

"Doctor?" he croaked. "Amy?"

The answer was familiar footsteps outside, heavy, urgent ones that Rory knew were being made by the Doctor's worn boots. The door opened and the Doctor poked his head around it, his face bathed in relief.

"Rory, you're awake," he said, smiling, but though he was trying to be cheerful his eyes betrayed him.

"Where's Amy?" Rory asked at once, fearing the worst.

The Doctor stepped fully into the room. "Amy's fine," he said quickly, and he watched Rory melt slightly back into the voluminous pillows. "She's in Leadworth," he said with a small shrug.

"Leadworth? Why?" Rory asked with a raised eyebrow.

"To keep her safe. Things got a bit hectic back there," the Doctor said apologetically.

Rory furrowed his brow as though he didn't understand, and then it all came flooding back. The injured Skent dying in his arms. His fevered attempt to get back to the TARDIS, feeling something strange and heavy settle over him. Then everything faded, and he remembered feeling scared, more scared than he had ever been, wishing he was with his son, crying because he was going to die.

He had been sharing the last moments of the dying alien, and it had felt so real.

"He died," Rory said softly, his head bowed. "That alien. He died."

"I know," the Doctor replied softly. "I'm sorry."

Rory shook his head. "He had a son," he whispered.

The Doctor said nothing, resisting the overwhelming urge to cross the room and hold Rory tightly in his arms. He just wanted to comfort him, that was all, but it felt cheap, like he couldn't stop himself from getting a guilty thrill from the contact and he swallowed thickly, hating that things had gotten so bad.

"What happened to me?" Rory asked eventually, looking at the Doctor with confusion. "And where are we?"

"The Skent, they have memories in their blood. When they die, they pass the memory on, so that nothing is left unsaid." The Doctor smiled at Rory, who just shook his head. "And this is the room of a friend of mine," he said quietly, hoping Rory wouldn't pry but knowing that he would. "Seemed the best place, what with the big bed and the red walls." Rory looked up at him quizzically. "It dulls telepathic headaches," he said quickly, which actually, seeing as this had once been Donna's room, explained a lot.

"We should get back to Amy," Rory said, rubbing his temples furiously. "She'll be- What?" he asked, catching the Doctor's guilty look.

The Doctor hesitated. He had been dreading this part for, oh, so many reasons. "We can't. Not yet. You're still... infected. I should have realised that the link you have to the TARDIS would have made you vulnerable and, well, Amy will be too if you go near her."

Rory's mouth hung open. "Infected?" he repeated. "Is it... fatal?"

The Doctor did step slightly closer at this point, flapping his hands and shaking his head. "No, no, not at all. It's fading, even now. But you might feel some... after effects. Dreams, moods, things like that."

"Alright... alright," Rory said, shaking his head lightly. He could feel something at the corner of his mind, a sort of grief, but not quite. "How long until it wears off completely?"

The Doctor shrugged again. "Three weeks?" he said, decidedly avoiding Rory's gaze.

"Three weeks!" Rory replied. "What are we supposed to do for three weeks?"

"Um, well. We can do whatever you want," the Doctor said cheerfully. "As long as you don't leave the TARDIS."

"I'm stuck here?"

The Doctor frowned and placed a placating hand on the walls. "Oh, come on, don't say it like that," he admonished Rory. "You'll hurt her feelings."

"Am really that contagious?" Rory asked.

The Doctor nodded. But hey, it was only three weeks. It would all be fine.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	7. Follow Me - Part 2

**Follow Me - Part 2**

 

There was a silence between the pair, during which Rory looked surprisingly calm and the Doctor could only gape like a fish out of water. His hearts thudded in his chest, screaming out a million conflicting emotions at once, and the Doctor swallowed thickly and tried to ignore them all. Rory, meanwhile, merely smiled, making no attempt to move or explain himself as he watched the Doctor from his position on the bed.

"Rory..?" the Doctor began, too scared to move closer but not wanting to run away.

Rory shrugged. "Sorry. I mean, I'm not in love with you," he said, which just confused the Doctor even more. "I know I'm not. But it really _feels_ like I am."

The Doctor felt himself burning up, embarrassed just because Rory seemed to resolutely not be. "But... what..?" he began, his hands flapping about once more in the way that they so often did when he was way out of his depth. He looked around the room, at the familiar red walls, the small collection of lotions and potions on the dressing table. It had been so nice, just for a while, to travel with someone who hadn't made everything so complicated. He forced himself to look back to the young nurse, who was sitting on the bed a picture of wide-eyed innocence. Clearly something was wrong.

Of course.

"That'll be one of the side-effects I was telling you about," the Doctor said, relaxing in relief, cheerfully jumping onto the bed next to Rory, trying to muster up his usual enthusiasm and cocky manner. "Our friend," he said, his tone suddenly quieter and more subdued, "was clearly in love with someone."

Rory sighed, sagging a little next to the Doctor.

"I really hate this sometimes," he muttered darkly, his light tone of voice completely gone as clearly the feeling had passed.

"It's only for a few weeks," the Doctor said off-handedly.

"Not the infection," Rory said heavily, looking at the Doctor. "I meant-"

"I know what you meant," the Doctor said bitterly, cutting him off. "Get some sleep."

"I just had some sleep," Rory pointed out as the Doctor stood up beside him.

"Get some more," the Doctor muttered in reply as he left the room.

-:-

Sometime later, the Doctor popped his head in to check on Rory and found the bed a desserted mess of crumpled sheets. The topmost cover was pulled to one side, and as the Doctor peered over the edge of the bed, he spotted Rory's huddled form, curled up in itself, his back pressed against the bed and his head between his knees. Rory's shoulders were shaking, and the Doctor skidded around the bed, tangling his boots up in the bed sheets as he knelt next to Rory.

"Rory? Rory, what's the matter?" he asked insistently.

The nurse didn't answer and just continued to shake, seemingly oblivious to the Doctor's presence. Cursing, the Doctor tried to put his arm around the other man, but he was so tightly curled up in himself, hiding away from whatever it was that was unfortunately consuming him from the inside.

"Rory, it's in your head," he said desperately, moving around the nurse, trying to get him to look up, to do anything but shake. "It's just in your head, it isn't real."

Rory began to scream.

He lifted his head from his knees and started to howl like a wounded animal. The sound was terrifying, striking the Doctor somewhere deep inside; somewhere dark and cold.

"Rory, please!" the Doctor begged, tears spiking his eyes as he tried to grab the man's shoulders, tried to still the awful sounds that came from him, but Rory couldn't even see him. The screaming just went on and on, and when the Doctor tried to press his fingertips to Rory's temples he had to pull them away quickly, as they felt as though they had been burned.

Rory's voice was harsh and raw when he finally managed to form any words, and tears were streaming down his face as though they would never stop. "Doctor?" he choked out, his eyes searching out the Time Lord frantically.

"I'm here, I'm here," the Doctor said quickly, relief loosening his muscles as he pressed his forehead to Rory's. "You're fine, you're alright."

"They're dying," Rory said, his voice harsh and breaking. "They're getting murdered!"

"Look at me, Rory, look at me," the Doctor said, trying to get a fix on Rory's own eyes. He was thrashing his head from side to side, the memories of what he had just experienced clearly still fresh in his mind. "It's over, you're safe."

Rory shook himsef angrily, breaking what little contact the Doctor had with him.

"They're not safe!" he shouted angrily, and he had that look in his eyes, the one the Doctor always hated. The look that told him that they all expected him to fix everything, that he was _supposed_ to, that it was his job.

"I can't do anything, Rory," the Doctor replied, wanting to show Rory just how helpless he was. "It's a war, a stupid, pointless war, and it's been going on for years. You fix one thing and they just find something else to fight about!" The Doctor slumped back miserably while Rory sat in front of him, his face still red in anger, his breath harsh and ragged.

Rory pushed himself back onto the bed, his legs hardly able to support him as he collapsed into the mattress. The Doctor knew that Rory's anger wasn't entirely his own, but the thing that crushed him the most was that some of it definitely was.

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked.

Rory merely turned over, his back to the Doctor, and said nothing.

-:-

The Doctor had checked on Rory often over the next few days, but the man had spent most of the time sleeping. The Doctor couldn't blame him, he was effectively being put through the psychic wringer by the infection, and the Doctor also suspected that the TARDIS had something to do with how tired Rory felt. He was grateful, however, as being around Rory, around his borrowed rage and grief, was killing the Doctor, hurting him in a way he had never even thought possible.

However, it was Rory who made the first step towards a reconciliation three days after that fateful day on the Skent homeworld, while the Doctor sat beneath the TARDIS console, changing a small bulb that he had long since forgotten the point of anyway.

He padded down the steps in his pyjamas, which the Doctor was at least pleased to see were a clean pair.

"Hello," Rory said softly, his head bowed as though he were ashamed.

"Hello," the Doctor replied, smiling gently, his mood lifting just enough.

"I'm sorry," Rory said quickly, looking up at the Doctor.

The Doctor shook his head. "Dont' be. It wasn't you."

"Right," Rory replied. "And I don't feel... you know."

The Doctor laughed. "Like you love me anymore?" he said, wincing ever so slightly at his own self-destructive nonsense.

"Angry," Rory said pointedly, fixing the Doctor with a wry grin.

The Doctor nodded and sighed. "Good. But we still can't go back, yet. Sorry. It lingers, that infection."

Rory just shrugged, and walked closer to the Doctor. For his part, the Doctor backed up just ever so slightly, so used was he to creating a buffer of space between himself and Rory these days. "I gathered," Rory continued, rolling his shoulders. "I was feeling really lonely."

The Doctor wasn't used to how candid Rory was being with his feelings, and he didn't like it. He was lonely too, but the way that he coped with it was to run away from it, not admit it and seek out someone to share it with.

"Ok," the Doctor said. "But that could just be, well, you. Stuck in here for three weeks with just me. No Amy."

Rory looked up suddenly at the sound of his wife's name. "Amy..?" he said, as though he was struggling to remember exactly who she was. There was a hint of recognition buried deep in his eyes, but he seemed to be having difficulty making any sense of it.

Closing the space between them in an instant, the Doctor strode up to Rory and grabbed him firmly by his upper arms. "Amy!" he insisted. "Gorgeous, feisty Amy! Your wife!"

Rory jerked himself out of the Doctor's grip. "That's not funny," he said, his anger flaring from seemingly nowhere.

"What?" the Doctor asked, bracing himself for whatever the infection was about to throw at him this time.

"You know I'm not married! Not anymore!"

"Rory, please," the Doctor said as Rory backed away from him. "You need to listen to me. It's not real, that memory. It's someone else's. That alien back on Skent. Remember Rory! Please, try to remember!"

"Where's Skent?" Rory demanded, as though the Doctor was making fun of him.

The Doctor was seriously confused now. He had no idea what was going on in Rory's poor, tortured mind. He didn't know how to calm him, but at least he wasn't screaming. His voice was even and measured, albeit furious.

"Rory..." the Doctor said, his tone pleading.

Rory glared at the Doctor as though he loathed him, then turned and stormed from the console room without another word.

-:-

Rory had emerged from his room a few hours later, full of apologies and guilt. The Doctor had, of course, assured him that it was all fine and not at all his fault, whilst simultaniously trying to stamp down the ridiculous ache in his hearts. That look that Rory had given him, the one so full of venom and hatred. He knew that look.

He'd seen it in the mirror often enough.

-:-

Over the next few days, Rory's behaviour had settled down, and much to the Doctor's combined disappointment and elation, his mood seemed to be much more calm if he was around the Doctor. There had been no more angry words, save for a few small sounds of irritation, but the Doctor wasn't sure if that was the infection or merely Rory's annoyance at having being cooped up for so long, and there had certainly been no more declarations of love. He was certain once again of who Amy was, and often lamented about how hard she was going to hit him when they finally got home. But then that had changed, at the end of the first week.

The Doctor was in his shirtsleeves, lying on the floor of the console room with his ridiculous goggles strapped to his eyes as a matter of protocol. Rory was sitting next to him, cross-legged on the floor, looking intently at the twisted lump of metal in his hands.

"And why haven't you replaced this before?" he asked the Doctor, turning the device this way and that in his hands.

"Never had the time!" the Doctor said cheerfully, as something came away from the console with a loud clunk. "Got it now, though, and a lovely assisstant to boot!"

Rory smiled slowly, rolling his eyes at the Doctor.

"Feel like I should be in sequins," Rory muttered.

The Doctor looked over at him. "That'd be a sight with that bone structure," he said, pushing his goggles up into his hair.

"I don't know," Rory said, preening himself and sticking out his chest. "I think I could pull it off."

Both men began to laugh, and the Doctor, forgetting his rules about space and boundries, placed his hand on Rory's knee.

The effect on his hearts was instantanious, but then, so was the effect on Rory.

The other man scrambled back suddenly, dropping the broken metal with a clang as he backed off. The Doctor flinched, expecting anger, but that wasn't what he saw.

Rory looked terrified.

"Rory, no, I'm sorry-" the Doctor said quickly not even sure what he was apologising for. But somehow, the fear was so much worse than the hatred.

"No, Doctor, no, I'm alright," Rory said, composing himself as he sat with his back painfully against the console, a good five feet of space between him and the Doctor.

"What... what happened?" the Doctor asked.

Rory just shook his head and swallowed, holding up his hand.

"Nothing, it's... nothing. I'm going to go and lie down for a bit." He got to his feet, and the Doctor, against his better judgement, made to follow him. He felt a strangeness inside, different to his normal heartache. In fact, he had gotten so used to loving Rory now that it was second nature now, that the feelings he had for him were as usual as the stars in the sky. But now he felt bizarre, like there was another factor muscling in on his mind.

"Rory please!" the Doctor implored. He didn't want Rory to go, and he grabbed his wrist.

Rory spun around to face him, his eyes locking with the Doctor's momentarily, before flicking down to the Doctor's slim fingers that were still curled around his wrist. He didn't pull away, and he didn't say a word. There was a silence between them, charged and electric.

Rory leaned in, just ever so fractionally closer to the Doctor, raising his eyes again slowly, stopping this time at the Doctor's lips.

The Doctor stilled, his hearts banging so hard he thought they would burst through his chest.

"Rory..." he whispered, as Rory drew closer still. He could feel the other man's soft breaths on his face. He closed his eyes, screwing them up tightly.

"Amy," he said, opening them again and looking Rory square in his soft, beautiful eyes.

Rory pulled back sharply, blinking as though the Doctor had slapped him.

"Amy," he repeated. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

The Doctor stepped back, his hearts shattering over and over as he saw the terror cross Rory's face. "It's fine. Don't worry," he insisted, shaking his head. He expected Rory to turn away, to run from the shame of what he had just tried to do, but this was Rory, for God's sake. He was better than that.

"I wanted to kiss you," he pointed out, almost ridiculously, before walking slowly out of the room.

It made no sense. The infection wasn't supposed to make Rory feel... well, like that. Grief and sadness and anger, but not that. The Doctor raised shaking fingers to his lips, as the awful truth hit him.

"I wanted to kiss you too," the Doctor replied in a whisper when he was certain that the other man was gone.


	8. Follow Me - Part 3

**Follow Me - Part 3**

There seemed to be little point to bringing up the event to either man. Rory, who was far too clever by half to be embarrassed by it, simply carried on as he had on all the other occasions; apologetic for what he had said or done, but slightly grateful in fact that at least this time he hadn't said anything hurtful to the Doctor. On the other hand, the Doctor, who felt an indignant anger at the universe for toying with him so, didn't bring it up to spare himself the stabbing pain in his chest that occurred every time he did.

Of course, it had been clear after that little episode what exactly was going on. The thoughts that Rory was having, the rage and the hatred, all directed at the Doctor, were essentially justified. Every rotten thing that lived within the Doctor, making him break apart and fade away, was being sent straight through to Rory's innocent mind. Why it was happening, the Doctor wasn't quite sure, though he had his theories. But he knew it was true. Perhaps he'd known from the way Rory had shouted when he couldn't save the dying, the way Rory had glared when he spat about being married, and definitely the way Rory's courage had failed him when he tried to kiss the Doctor.

It was Amy, at the end of it all, that was the problem. He could want and want and want until it made him sick to do so anymore, but Amy still loved Rory, and even if there was the slightest chance, the Doctor would never take it. He would never do that to her. He would never do that to anyone.

And of course, really the biggest obstacle of all was Rory himself, whose devotion to his wife was perhaps the finest miracle the Doctor had ever seen. Not because there was anything inherently wrong with Amy, not by a long shot, but the love Rory had for her seemed to define him. He was only Rory when Amy was nearby.

And yet now, here they were, three weeks stuck in each other's company, with only the Doctor's fragile mind to keep things interesting.

The solution was simple. Until Rory was free of his new found telepathic abilities, the best thing to do would be to throw a cage over his mind, lock it up tight and throw away the key. It was never an easy process, getting into someone's head in the first place, and as far as the Doctor was concerned, fighting off an amateur like Rory should have been no trouble whatsoever.

But something was wrong. The Doctor presumed that once again the TARDIS was making his life difficult. Harder to defend against was her psychic onslaught, and Rory was at the end of that mental chain. The Doctor was connected to the TARDIS, and the TARDIS to Rory, so therefore it would be easy for Rory to get inside the Doctor's head with just the smallest of leg ups to stir up those telepathic abilities. Thankfully though, it seemed that for now at least Rory was unaware that the emotions he was so vividly experiencing belonged to not to the nameless alien who had died in his arms, but the awkward man with the bow tie he was currently imprisoned with.

The Doctor toyed idly with the idea of just trying to _stop_ loving Rory, but he may as well have charged himself with turning off the sun. In fact, he would almost certainly have preferred it, because that, at least, he felt he could do.

-:-

Five days had passed without incident, making a total of almost two weeks of self-imposed quarantine on board the TARDIS. Rory was becoming incredibly tetchy, snapping at the Doctor and apologising, assuring the Time Lord however that it was his own short temper that was the problem, and not the intrusive alien blood. The Doctor, on the other hand, was becoming more and more despondent, as spending this much time with Rory hadn't had quite the effect he hoped it might have. He had thought that he would, to be honest, become sick of the sight of the other man, but he alarmingly had not. If anything he had grown more enamoured as he now had the time to study Rory almost, to get to know him better and to love him all the more for it.

For example, the Doctor now knew that Rory didn't like sugar in his tea, a fact that should have turned the Doctor off of him, seeing as the alien usually put so much sugar in his own tea that he had to chew it. But regardless, he had learned this because after four days of making it with sugar, Rory had just casually mentioned that he took it without. Four days. Days during which Rory had shouted and raged at the Doctor, a mouth piece for the man's self-hatred, and yet he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell the Doctor that he was making his tea all wrong.

And that was on top of the fact that Rory usually made twice as much anyway. And his was always perfect.

He had come to realise too, that Rory was so much more than just Amy's husband. Away from her, and God he knew it was a terrible thought, Rory seemed to shine just a little brighter. It wasn't because Amy broke him down or made him less, it was just that together they were two halves of one whole, a set, completed by one another. Apart, however, Rory alone was responsible for his actions, and somehow that made him almost seem more real.

If he asked the Doctor a question, a rather personal one, Amy wasn't there to swat him on the arm and do that strange stretched smile of hers that told Rory that he was being a little inappropriate.

He didn't have to wait for confirmation for a single thing he did; as far as he was concerned, he had no one else's feelings to consider.

If only he knew, thought the Doctor.

And thank God he doesn't.

So when, after those incident free five days, when Rory had asked if they could go home and the Doctor had said that they really couldn't, not yet, he wasn't surprised that Rory didn't argue.

They had tried to contact Amy from the outset, but the amount of psychic residue bouncing around the TARDIS meant that they kept getting hold of random numbers, instead of the one belonging to the feisty redhead. Rory was worried sick, both about whether or not Amy was alright and just how hard she was going to hit him when they got home.

"The TARDIS Emergency Protocol Programme will have explained everything to her Rory," the Doctor said wearily, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Rory shook himself. "Yes, yeah, I'm sorry. This is better, right? You know, for her. For me to stay away?"

The Doctor sighed heavily and made to put his hand on Rory's shoulder, stopping himself just in time. "Yes, Rory. You've waited two thousand years; one more week isn't going to hurt you."

Rory laughed nervously, the familiar sound shooting straight through the Doctor and almost pinning him to the floor. He looked up at the other man nervously, to see if the sudden reminder of his feelings was having any effect, but Rory was just standing there, still smiling, still happy.

Rory walked around the TARDIS, trailing his hand over the knobs and buttons, drinking in that which he really couldn't ever understand.

"Um, Doctor?" he began, a slightly wary tone in his voice.

"Rory?" the Doctor replied, looking up from the scanner.

"Thank you. You know, for staying. It must not be much fun for you, cooped up in here with me three weeks." Rory smiled softly, and the Doctor closed his eyes as though Rory had pressed on an old wound.

"Well, it's not a good idea to land her anyway," the Doctor lied hurriedly. "Not with you being contagious and all. Just popping her down somewhere could have affected the local widllife, and who knows what they might have done."

Rory nodded. "Yeah, but still. You must be going mental, stuck in here. I mean, it's not like you're infected, is it?"

The Doctor paused, and took an ill-considered few steps towards Rory.

"How do you know that?" he asked softly, looking Rory up and down.

Rory took a step back. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You've not been having visions or moods or anything like that." Rory felt strangely cornered, like he had exposed the Doctor somehow, but he couldn't understand just what it was that he had done.

The Doctor's face relaxed. It was true, he hadn't been infected, simply because his Time Lord physiology made him immune, but Rory didn't know that. If he had known that, the Doctor would have been worried, as it would mean that Rory was knowing things only the Doctor could possibly know. Or things that would be, at any rate, unknown to an unfortunate refugee of a war torn planet.

Rory relaxed as the Doctor did, and stepped towards him, placing his hand on the Doctor's upper arm. "I mean it though, thank you. I mean, you've had to put up with a lot from me."

The Doctor swallowed, smiling thoughtlessly as he felt like crying. Of all the people he could have loved, why did it have to be Rory Williams? Gorgeous, caring, _unobtainable_ Rory? And though he knew that it would have been futile, with Amy in the picture or without, he couldn't stop himself.

He was in so deep now that he didn't even want to.

"Rory, for you, I would do anything," he said, looking to the floor. "Never ever doubt that."

Rory squeezed his arm gently, words momentarily lost to him.

"You gave your life for me once," the Doctor said, daring himself to look into Rory's eyes. "I've never forgotten, not for one second."

He was being reckless, selfish and stupid, and he knew it, but the Doctor could feel the tension stirring up between them, and he craved it. After years and years of running and denying himself what he wanted, two weeks with only Rory's presence was making him crazy. He wouldn’t go through with it, he would stop anything happening, but just for a moment, oh, how wonderful would it be to pretend that he could for once get what he wanted?

"I wouldn't have let you die," Rory said, taking his hand away, leaving a burning patch of warmth upon the Doctor. It didn't break the spell, however. The Doctor's breath was heavy in his chest, and Rory's eyes were blinking rapidly. Rory knew what was happening this time; he was prepared, and kept his back straight, maintaining the distance.

"Thank you," the Doctor said, whispering the words like a prayer. He wanted so badly to step into that space, that tension, and he could feel his blood roaring through his veins, a surge of heat that left his knees weak.

Rory's lips parted, just slightly, as though he were about to respond, but no words fell from him. 'It just the blood,' he told himself defiantly. 'Just the blood. These feelings are not yours, they don't belong to you. So why aren't you moving away?

_Why isn't he?'_

"Immune," Rory whispered, as both men still stayed locked where they were, unable to back away, too scared to move closer.

It took a while for the Doctor to realise what Rory was saying. Of course, he would question why the Doctor wasn't trying to break this awkward situation, as he was not at the mercy of anyone else's feelings but his own. The Doctor felt horribly exposed and disgusted with himself, as this was no better than taking advantage of Rory.

He reeled, stepping back so suddenly that he fell, catching his foot on one of the chairs. He crashed to the ground, wincing as the air was forced out of him, his mind flashing back to that fateful dance at the damn wedding, all those months ago.

Rory was at his side almost instantly, offering a hand which the Doctor pointedly did not take. He got himself to his feet, straightening his jacket with a look of inexplicable anger in his eyes. Rory wondered what he had done wrong, and almost thought he knew.

"I... I wasn't accusing you of..." he began, stuttering in panic and indignation.

"Leave it Rory," the Doctor muttered, stalking past Rory and bumping him with his shoulder.

But Rory, whose heart was getting tired of being pulled apart and cut open, reached out to stop him.

"No," he said. "I can't."

The Doctor span around, rage blazing in his eyes. He was angry at himself, so damn angry, for being so careless and so selfish and so wrong. He could love Rory, and that was fine, even if it was killing him inside. But he had to be strong in these bizarre circumstances. Just because he was being offered the one thing he craved above all others, that didn't mean he had to take it.

"Perhaps I'm not as immune as we thought," the Doctor said levelly.

Rory said nothing. It was too much. The Doctor's anger, his shame. The feeling of pain in his chest was becoming unbearable. He thought he was going to scream. He thought he might even die.

And all that was really clear to Rory in that moment, was that if he was kissing the Doctor, it would all go away, if only for a little while.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of the Doctor's shirt, yanking him close and smashing their lips together painfully. The Doctor's feet scrambled at the sudden movement but he remained upright, his hands raised at his sides in surprise.

The kiss was not gentle, was not even loving. If anything, it was bitter, wanton and unwanted all at once. Both men wanted to pull apart from it, and neither man could. The Doctor kept his hands well away, but Rory used his other hand to press firmly on the back of the Doctor's neck, bringing him so close it hurt. There was hatred in every slip and suck, every brush of tongue and every edge of teeth. The Doctor whimpered, and brought his arms up to Rory's shoulders.

The awful feelings that filled them both, however, started to fade. An almost blissful calm settled over the Doctor as he allowed the hands he had moved with the intent of pushing Rory away to rest instead, lightly against Rory's skin as the other man's motions too became less forceful. The kiss was turning from a desperate act to spare Rory some pain into something far greater, and much more worse. Every iota of love that the Doctor was carrying for Rory spilled from his lips, passing into the other man before he could stop it. Rory's hand slid around and he pushed his fingers into the Doctor's hair, his palm against his cheek.

It should have ended, but the blessed relief in the Doctor's hearts was too good to let go of. The minute he and Rory pulled apart, it would come back, that pain, probably far worse than ever before. The feel of Rory's fingers in his hair sent sparks down his backbone, and he shifted, moving so that their already too-close bodies were perfectly aligned. His hands moved across Rory's arms, one hand coming to rest in his crooked elbow, the other curling around the fingers that were still fisted in his shirt.

And yet, the kiss did stop, after a moment or a thousand years, neither man knowing which of them had broken it. They looked at each other, panting, scared. Rory's lips were flushed and swollen, and the Doctor's were much the same.

"I'm sorry," Rory said, and though the Doctor had expected it, he wasn't sure what Rory was apologising for. Was it just the fact that he had kissed him, or did he know?

"Don't be," the Doctor said, his voice barely a confused whisper as he brought his fingers up to his abused lips. They stung with the memory of Rory, wanting more, shamelessly.

"I... God, this is..." Rory didn't seem to know what to say, but neither was he running. "I just needed to--" he offered, by weak way of explanation. He brought his hand up to his chest and flattened it there, his fingers spread like a fan against the material of his shirt. "It was too much," he said, shaking his hand against his heart.

The Doctor nodded, numb.

"Let's... let's go home," he whispered.

"Now?" Rory asked, confused.

"I think it's out of your system now," he said sadly. He didn't know if that was true, he didn't even care. The kiss, the stolen moment, had been the worst trick the universe had ever played on him, and his hearts were broken into pieces.

Everything was different now. Everything was wrong.

He put began to put in the co-ordinates of Leadworth, angrily flipping switches and hitting buttons. He was about to pull the lever when he felt a hand on his, warm and firm,

"Not yet," Rory said, looking into his eyes.

"Rory... what?"

Rory fixed him with a gaze so terrifying that the Doctor thought he was going to burn.

"How long have you been in love with me?" he asked simply.


	9. Follow Me - Part 4

**Follow Me – Part 4**

The Doctor slipped his hand out from beneath Rory’s as though he had been burned. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quickly, walking towards the stairs. He knew that his body language, the shortness of his words, everything he was doing was due to his panic and it was betraying his secret. But the idea that Rory might know, the idea that he might tell Amy, made the Doctor feel so sick and hot it was a wonder that he didn’t keel over.

“Doctor, stop,” Rory said, his voice pragmatic as if this was just another little problem that needed solving. He followed the Doctor out of the console room and down a corridor towards the library. “Doctor, wait.”

“Rory,” the Doctor said irritably, coming to a halt and turning to face the other man. “Clearly whatever psychic voodoo is rattling around this old girl is confusing us both. Least said, sooner mended, yes?”

Rory didn’t look entirely convinced, but there was just a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “This is just the infection?” he asked for clarification.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course it is. Seems like I’m not so immune after all, doesn’t it. Look, just… put it out of your mind. You have a wife to get home to, after all.”

Rory fixed the Doctor with a tired stare. “Doctor, I don’t understand. Why would it make me…us, act this way? You said dying memories, not heart wrenching agony.”

Heart wrenching agony. That was actually as good a description as the Doctor could have given himself for how it felt to be in love with Rory. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said shortly. “I don’t know what’s going on. The blood, I assume, has opened up both of our psychic pathways and we’re projecting our feelings on to one another. That’s what that was,” the Doctor lied quickly, waving a hand in the direction of the console room. “You’re clearly missing Amy very much.”

The Doctor turned on his heel and stalked away again, leaving a dumbfounded Rory in his wake.

-:-

The Doctor had shut himself up in the library, childishly surrounding himself with stacks and stacks of books as though he were building some sort of fort. Rory hadn’t been near or by him for hours, and the Doctor was glad. He wasn’t done being furious with himself for not being stronger, back there in the console room, but he had been so sure that Rory needed it, as he himself had done. Just to escape the unrelenting heaviness of his hearts, if only for a few moments, he’d needed that so badly. And if Rory was feeling the same as he, then it had been a blessed relief for the pair of him.

But it was wrong. It was so wrong. Rory was at the mercy of the Doctor’s feelings for him, like some twisted mirror, and the Doctor should have pulled away and let them suffer apart instead of ruining things together.

He looked up as he saw something moving in the corner, thinking that Rory had come to find him. He shrank down, trying to think up a million different things to say to turn him away from the one thing that the Doctor had no desire to discuss. But as he looked over at the figure, one thing was abundantly clear. It wasn’t Rory.

It was a creature, vaguely humanoid in shape, but lacking features or sex. It was navy blue, and cracks in its surface showed sparks of blue electricity underneath. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned it, but he saw exactly what he had expected to.

Being a time machine, the TARDIS collected a lot of what was essentially flotsam and jetsam from the time vortex. Creatures made of the detritus of so much time  energy, like burnt out batteries, but they usually faded long before they even made it out of the Eye of Harmony. This one however, had escaped, and it was dangerous if it touched a person.

There was no point trying to reason with it, it wasn’t that kind of creature. It was just the leftovers of time, made mobile with memories but with no sentience of its own. It was essentially a walking dust bunny. The Doctor knew that if he simply waited, it would burn up on its own. Still, best to tell Rory there was one of these things hanging around.

He locked it in the library and wandered off to find Rory.

-:-

Rory was back in Donna’s room. The Doctor had been right; the red walls really did soothe his telepathic headache, if not the ache in his heart. He lay back on the bed and tried not to think, failing miserably.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe the Doctor when he said it was merely the blood to be blamed. The way they Doctor had returned his fevered kiss, so desperately, so _lovingly_ … well, the idea just didn’t sit properly with Rory. There was something in it more than feelings borrowed from a dead stranger, or anything Rory may have been feeling about his wife. He hadn’t even been thinking about her then, for God’s sake. It was almost as if he had forgotten she existed.  He sighed and twisted so he was facing one of the walls, his eyes screwed up tightly. He loved Amy, he loved her so much it hurt, but something had shifted. And not just since the quarantine, Rory accepted heavily. He had died for the doctor, and he would do so, again and again.

He felt so lost and so confused. He wondered if it was only the constancy of Amy’s presence that had stopped him from looking too far into himself. He closed his eyes, needing to get away and knowing that he couldn’t. But if he really wanted to, he could lose the Doctor for days inside the TARDIS.

“Rory?”

Then again, maybe not.

He opened his eyes and sat up as the door opened softly. “Ah, good. There you are.” The Doctor was his usual old self, all chipper and layer upon layer of denial. “Bit of a thing,” he said, pointing back to the corridor with his thumbs. “Nothing to worry about. Just stay out of the library for a while.”

Rory nodded.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Rory shook his head. “It’s a creature made of time run off. Not dangerous really, but I really shouldn’t touch it. Am I close?”

The Doctor stepped into the room, is eyes fixed on Rory. “Remarkably so,” he whispered, still walking closer and closer to the bed. “How did you know that?”

Rory shrugged as though the whole thing were just a little boring. “Deconstruction of the psychic pathways,” he said in a monotone. “Access to your surface thoughts, just like you have access to mine.”

The Doctor stepped back sharply, fear pulsing through him. “Oh, I… still?”

Rory shook his head. “No, not now.”

The Doctor sighed with relief.

“You must have been able to read my mind too,” Rory said pointedly. The Doctor gave him a puzzled look. When he had seen the creature, he had been in the library, brooding over the kiss when he had spotted the creature. Brooding over his own weakness, brooding over how much it had seemed like Rory wanted it too.

“Rory..?” the Doctor breathed.

Rory shook his head. “You lied to me. I lied to you. I think we should just keep on lying.”

“Are you going to leave? Go home?”

Rory shook his head. “Amy would want to stay,” he said softly.

“Even if you didn’t?” the Doctor asked.

Rory felt a coldness in his chest. No, Amy wouldn’t stay with him. She would follow the Doctor, always. He looked up at the Time Lord, and knew that he would too.

“Even if I didn’t,” Rory said heavily. It wasn’t right, perhaps, that his wife would find within her the capability to leave him behind if she had to. It was actually completely wrong.

“Rory, look, it’s nothing, Just a crush. It’ll pass,” the Doctor said suddenly, his words flowing from him even faster than usual. There was no point pretending that he didn’t have feelings for Rory anymore, but he didn’t have to let the man know just how deep those feelings were.

To the Doctor’s belief, Rory actually smiled, just a little, the anger and tension leaving him. He didn’t know why he was angry anyway, he thought. It wasn’t as if it was something the Doctor had any control over, and of course keeping it to himself was the best course of action.

“I’m quite flattered, really,” Rory said with a small laugh.

The Doctor laughed in reply, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

“And Amy would be furious if she knew,” Rory continued. “Very jealous.”

“You’re not going to tell her then?” the Doctor asked nervously. Rory shook his head.

The Doctor nodded gratefully, and turned to walk out of the room. Then he stopped. “What did you mean when you said _you_ lied?” he asked.

Rory lowered his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure Doctor,” he said heavily. “Still figuring it out.”

Confused, the Doctor left the room once again and wandered back to the console room. It couldn’t mean what he thought it meant, he told himself, as a small chirp from his sonic told him that the creature in the library had finally burnt up. Rory loved Amy. Loved her as he had smiled that relieved smile when the Doctor finally made it to the wedding. Loved her as they danced together, close, so close. Loved her as the Doctor had watched him study his precious machine trying to learn the ins and outs of the one thing the Doctor loved more than anything else.

Loved her as she had doubted that she loved him.

And he had loved her every time he placed a hand on the Doctor’s knee, or run a hand over his shoulders. Loved her as he had begged the Doctor not to run back into a war torn planet in case he got killed.

It was all too much.

-:-

The next day, Rory had sat feeling horribly exposed in the Med Bay, his shirt off and various wires stuck to his chest. Both men were pointedly not saying a thing about the situation, so contrived as it was. The Doctor stood a few feet away from Rory, looking at screens and shaking little test tubes full of blue liquid now and again. “I’d say you’re all better now,” the Doctor murmured, ripping a sheet of paper from one of the machines.

“So can I put my shirt back on?” Rory said, too quickly.

The Doctor burned, feeling deeply ashamed, and Rory could read it in his face. “I’m sorry,” the young nurse said quickly. “It’s just… cold,” he finished lamely. The Doctor nodded curtly, looking at the floor, while Rory pulled the sticky patches from his chest and slipped his t-shirt back on.

“Come on, let’s get back to Amy,” the Doctor said brusquely, brushing past Rory so quickly that their hands brushed. Rory’s lips parted gently in surprise, and once more hot guilt flooded through him. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, why being away from Amy for only three weeks would spark such a change in him. They had years behind them, this didn’t make any sense. The Doctor strode back to the console room without looking back.

“Doctor!” Rory shouted, running after him. “Wait!”

The Doctor paused, his hands still on the controls. He turned to face Rory.

“What?” he asked.

“I just. I need to check,” Rory said quickly, and before the Doctor could say anything else, Rory’s lips were upon his once more. He didn’t even try to fight, not this time, even if it would have made more sense to do so this time.

Instead he clawed at Rory, something in his head telling him that this would be the last chance he would ever get if they were about to go home. He dismissed thoughts of Amy as he pushed his hands beneath Rory’s shirt and up his back, exposing his bare torso once again in the way that only moments ago had been driving him wild. Rory responded by pushing his hands across the Doctor’s shoulders, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. The Doctor released Rory just long enough to allow it to fall to onto the console.

He lifted his hand back to Rory’s waist, in between his shoulders. It felt to the Doctor as though he would never be able to touch Rory enough, he would never be able to feel enough of Rory’s skin against his own. He whimpered softly as Rory’s hands fisted into his hair, the kiss becoming more ferocious as it went on.

Rory pulled his lips away from the Doctors, but they remained unyieldingly close to one another, still moving their hands, their forehead pressed against each other’s. “Rory, what are you doing?” the Doctor whispered as Rory ducked down and began to press kisses along the line of his jaw.

“I don’t know,” Rory said softly in reply, but he didn’t stop.

The Doctor closed his eyes, his skin tingling all over. He had no idea what was happening. Rory was cured, of this much the Doctor was certain, but everything else he had always thought was true seemed to be disappearing like smoke. It couldn’t be true, not if Rory was really here, kissing him, touching him _, wanting_ him.

He took a sudden control of the situation, grabbing Rory firmly and spinning him, pushing him up against the console as he kissed him desperately on the mouth. Rory shuddered beneath his hands, and the Doctor took is a good sign to carry on. “Doctor,” Rory breathed as the other man pressed his teeth lightly to his neck, sucking lightly but not enough to leave a mark.

And it was this tenderness that broke the spell, this sudden knowledge that there could be no evidence to what they were doing, and that they shouldn’t be doing it at all. The Doctor stepped back from Rory, flushed and uncomfortable. Rory’s shirt was still pulled halfway up his body, and his hair was a mess. He was gasping, looking at the Doctor as though he had never seen him before.

“Rory… please,” the Doctor said softly, looking at the floor.

“I’m, God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Rory stepped forward and the Doctor immediately stepped back, maintaining the space between them.

The Doctor found he couldn’t even speak. He felt like dying.

Rory looked stricken, and truly ashamed of himself.  The Doctor took a deep breath, and stepped forward, leaning in close enough to Rory that he could feel  the heat coming up from him. Then he grabbed his jacket from the console and left the room.

-:-

Rory returned to Donna’s room once again. His head was fine, but he couldn’t stand the idea of going back to the room he shared with Amy. “Stupid!” he berated himself, slamming the flat of his fist against the wall. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Over and over he struck the wall, until the fight left him and he slid down to the floor in defeated heap.

-:-

When they finally returned to Leadworth, the silence and space between them seemed unbridgeable. Rory was out of the door without even looking back, and the Doctor waited, desperately wishing he could just go and never return. But in the end he did follow.

He didn’t feel he had much choice when he heard Amy’s scream.

He ran out to see Amy staring at Rory, a broken mug at her feet. She looked startled, and incredibly angry. She crossed the room and slapped Rory sharply across the cheek.

“Six. Months!” she shouted, rubbing her stinging palm. “You’ve been gone for six months!” She began to cry, sobbing hysterically as she leaned against Rory.

“No, Amy,” Rory began. “It’s only been…” He stopped himself. Of course it had been six months. That was what the Doctor did. He made people wait.

The Doctor slowed to a stop as he watched Rory cradle his sobbing wife. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Amy, I am so sorry, but we couldn’t come back, not until-“

Amy straightened up and stepped out of Rory’s embrace. “Don’t you touch me,” she said angrily. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The guilt that had been burning inside the Doctor magnified, a whole other reason to hate himself sweeping over him. He looked at Rory, his eyes shining with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning to leave.

“Doctor, wait,” Rory said, even though Amy looked hurt at his tone of voice, but the Doctor didn’t stop until he was back in the TARDIS and into deepest space.


	10. I Don't Love You

**I Don’t Love You**

_When you go,_  
 _Would you even turn to say,_  
 _I don’t love you,_  
 _Like I did,_  
 _Yesterday._

The first week of Rory’s return had been one of the worst weeks of his life. Luckily, Amy took his guilt to be merely caused by the fact that he had been away so long, but if she hadn’t been so blinded by her anger, perhaps she would have noticed that Rory’s guilt was completely disproportionate his crime. She ignored him sometimes, shouted at others, but it was always much worse when she cried. When she lay awake in the bed they were supposed to be sharing, weeping into her pillow and shaking off Rory’s touch when he reached out for her shoulder.

“I’ve been doing this without you for months,” she sobbed, saturating the covers with her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Rory replied desperately. “But please, you don’t need to do it anymore.”

Amy simply ignored him, and she would stop crying only because she knew that Rory would refuse to move to the sofa until she did.

-:-

Amy had stopped working while Rory had been away. All she had had to go on was a vague message, delivered to her by an overly cheerful hologram of the Doctor, and even that had been taken away, the TARDIS dematerialising again almost as soon as she was through the door. She had never thought Rory dead, not really, but the longer he was gone, the worse it had started to consume her, the waiting. She could wait for the Doctor, who was for all intents and purposes, ageless, but she couldn’t wait for Rory, and nor did she expect him to wait for her. She was already almost five months closer to his age than she had been before he left, seconds and minutes aging her. What if it had been six years? Sixty? While Rory had spent three weeks, barely changing at all and completely all at once.

But the truth was, six months was a long time without information, but it was far from long enough to destroy them. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.  But though she had waited six months for Rory and the Doctor, she had just been on hold, her life stopping, waiting for the day that she could just pick up where she left off. Not so it seemed for Rory, who in three short weeks seemed to have changed into someone she didn’t recognise, and she was still far too furious to ask him what had happened. It was selfish, she knew, but she felt that she had perhaps earned the right to be a little bit selfish.

So when the offer of a job came in, a small modelling gig that would see her staying in London for a couple of days, she jumped at the chance, feeling that despite their time apart, the space would do them good. She was still angry, angry at Rory for something that wasn’t his fault, angry at the Doctor for leaving her behind, and angry at herself for the stupid mistake she had made while Rory had been away. She needed to come to terms with it, make it right, and stop channelling that anger onto her poor, confused husband, who strangely seemed to take all of her rage as though he deserved so much worse.

Rory saw Amy off at the station, a mere fortnight after coming back into her life again. She allowed him to kiss her, on her lips, but something felt bitter in the action and Rory drew away quickly. Amy noticed, but she didn’t question it. Something in her eyes told Rory that she agreed.

Once Amy was gone, Rory felt lost. For the last two weeks, his goals had been to get Amy to forgive him, and to get himself back to that point he had been in for most of his life, the point of being in love with Amy. He wasn’t trying to deny all that had happened between he and the Doctor, and there was little point in lying to himself about it, as it was obvious that the Doctor had no plans to come back to either of them. Things had gotten intensely complicated, and for once Rory agreed with the Doctor’s fall back plan of running away.

But less hard to accept was his feelings for Amy, and the way in which they had changed.  He still loved her, more than he cared to mention, but he was so angry with her. She shouldn’t have been so mad at him for something he had no control over, something that he had done for her safety. Lord knows what would have happened between she and the Doctor if she had been infected too. The idea sent waves of jealousy coursing through Rory, but he didn’t know what bothered him more. The fact that Amy would project her true feelings for the Doctor outwards, and Rory would finally have to face up to how deep they ran, or the idea that the Doctor might return those feelings at all.

In the car, as he drove back to his little flat, he came to a decision as he waited at the traffic lights. Amy was his beautiful, loving wife, and he had done something terrible behind her back, something that couldn’t be blamed on alien blood or close confinement or anything else but the truth of his heart. He had been right in his assumptions, that Amy’s presence in his life was all he could see, and when she was gone, suddenly he could see everything else. Including the Doctor.

It was stupid, pointless and a waste of time to be… in love with the mad man. But he was, and he had been for a while. Of course, he hated it, but he didn’t know what to do about it. However, one thing was certain. He couldn’t keep pretending with Amy. She didn’t deserve that.

-:-

To: [rorywilliams23@mymail.com](mailto:rorywilliams23@mymail.com)  
From: [aymeeeepond@mymail.com](mailto:aymeeeepond@mymail.com)  
Re: I’m sorry.

This is cowardly. I’m sorry. But you were gone for six months. I was scared. I was vulnerable. I didn’t mean to. I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.  
  
To: [aymeeeepond@mymail.com](mailto:aymeeeepond@mymail.com)  
From: [rorywilliams23@mymail.com](mailto:rorywilliams23@mymail.com)  
Re: Re: I’m sorry.

Who was it?

To: [rorywilliams23@mymail.om](mailto:rorywilliams23@mymail.om)  
From: [aymeeeepond@mymail.com](mailto:aymeeeepond@mymail.com)  
Re: Re: Re: I’m sorry.

Does it matter? It was only once. Two months before you came home. I don’t see him anymore. He’s no one. I’m really sorry.  
  
To: [aymeeeepond@mymail.com](mailto:aymeeeepond@mymail.com)  
From: [rorywilliams23@mymail.com](mailto:rorywilliams23@mymail.com)  
Re: Re: Re: Re: I’m sorry.

We’ll talk when you come home.

Rory closed his laptop and sighed. It hurt, but not as much as it should and he knew exactly why. It was, in a petulant way, an easing of his guilt. She was just as bad as he was, but he knew that was so far from the truth. Her husband and best friend had gone missing for a half a year. She was scared, lonely, and knowing Amy, she had probably had a bit to drink, too. Someone had taken advantage of her fragile state, just the once, and she had let them if only to have a small reprieve from the fear that plagued her every waking moment.

Rory had kissed the Doctor, three times, each time with growing acceptance and want. He had forgotten Amy in a time when she should have been all that kept him going. He had fallen for another man, her best friend no less, and they had both betrayed her in the worst possible way.

If he left now, it would look as though he had left because of what she had done, and that was the last thing Rory wanted to do. He wouldn’t let her blame herself for this.

He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. It didn't help that in the middle of all this confusion, all of this guilt and feeling like the worse kind of person, he still _missed_ the Doctor. He still ached to be away from him, and still wanted him constantly.

He was wondering if the Doctor was suffering the same way, when a familiar, grating noise reached his ears and answered the question for him. His heart leapt and he was on his feet at once, his guilt pushed down into something small as heat flooded him. He ran to the front door and pulled it wide.

The TARDIS sat by the front gate, but the door remained firmly closed. Rory looked up and down the street. It was deserted, and Rory felt as though the TARDIS just being there, and nothing more, marked something important. If he stepped back into his house now and shut the door, that would be it. The Doctor would fly off to who knows where, running and fighting, gaining and losing on a never ending loop until his dying day.

But if he stepped out of his front garden and into the blue box, he would be destroying Amy. He would be crushing her, betraying her in a way that he never thought himself capable of doing. She was strong, she would be fine, but not for a while.

If he shut the door, the Doctor would be broken too. Not just a little crush, he had heard the lie even as it was spoken.

If he walked away from Leadworth, he would be happy.

If he stayed, he would be lost.

Rory fished his door keys from the pocket of his jeans and set them on the small table by the front door. He wasn’t going to be needing them anymore.

The air was filled with the grating sound of the TARDIS dematerialising, and then the street was silent once more.

-:-

Rory stood with his back to the doors. The Doctor stood on the other side of the console, looking at him. The air was tense, just for a moment, before a small smile of relief tugged at the corners of the Doctors mouth. Explanations, apologies, they would all come, but for now, there was only that relief.

Rory looked at the Doctor, and smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this was a long time coming. I so wanted to make it fluffy at the end, but I couldn't reconcile the idea of Amy happily travelling in the TARDIS with her ex-husband and his new boyfriend, who just so happens to be her best friend. So, yeah, Rory and the Doctor sort of come off like jerks here a bit, but the next part of the series will hopefully deal with the fallout in such a way that Rory and the Doctor can be together without being dogged by guilt! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and commented! Fezturion forever! - OS


End file.
